Aveugle
by Paperback-Avenger
Summary: John was saved by The Bowery King, but he was healed by a familiar face.


**Enjoy this little one shot with an OC I'm working on**

The world underground remained cold and shallow. Pain stayed in the hearts of many, all taken advantage of. They were wounded by the High Table. Mentally and physically. There was only so much each member could take and the limit was higher than the Statue of Liberty. They betrayed all- from the lowest member to their own kind. The High Table had gotten out of hand for a few years now, yet no one would say a word. They would rather subject to their superiors than fight back.

Well, for most, that was the case.

The Bowery King looked to all who worked alongside him. He studied every member as they did their part. Some loaded weaponry, others wrote notes and talked amongst themselves. They were his team. He saw these as the people you didn't want to piss off. In their eyes, they were the good guys. They had done nothing to deserve the wrath of their superiors and they would no longer be controlled by their hands. They were not puppets anymore. He enjoyed watching them plan, helping with his own ideas and making the team stronger. After all, he had the scars to prove the High Table's wrongfulness.

Suddenly, a man in a black coat quickly approached the Bowery King. His face was almost in shock, his only hand trembling. The tall, thin man was trying to say something, but he couldn't get it out. He was in total shock. The king casually turned to the tall man, trying to figure out what the matter was.

"Is everything alright, Gael?" The Bowery King asked.

"We have brought you John Wick, sir" he said.

So they did betray him. The man was almost surprised. John had been close to The Continental and, if they had thrown him aside, then that had been the final straw. He told Gael to gather everyone by the throne, for John needed a grand entrance. Gael nodded and called for all. The Bowery King, however, walked past them. He went to a room close by, where medicine bottles and syringes were neatly kept on the shelves. The beds were made and the hospital space looked ready to go. Yadira was planning for this moment.

He watched the girl for a moment. She was shuffling around, dark hair pulled back and slender hands skimming over each object. She was precise in her work and, while she made errors, Yadira was growing stronger each day. She was born to heal. And she was born to meet John.

"Have you heard the news?" The Bowery King asked the girl.

"Gael told me," Yadira said," I'm ready for his arrival."

"I figured that much," he sighed," You know this means that we must act now."

"If they have taken down the Baba Yaga, they will take us down. If they find us, that is. We have been fighting for our cause for so long- but it's now time to act. He could be a traitor for all we know. If we get John on our side-"

"Of course he would be on side. He has been serving The High Table for God knows how long. They have betrayed John Wick. Many that walk the streets may say he deserved it. But I know," the king paused and sat on a nearby stool," Yadira, I know you remember John. But that does not mean he will remember you."

"I know," she said," I do not expect him to recognize me. It has been twenty one years and he has gone through a lot. I do, however, expect him to stay and fight for our cause."

The Bowery King said no more. He nodded as Gael came to look for him. He said John was awakening and needed the king. Yadira could not tell where he was, but the slight tension in the air made her understand the situation. Before he left, he turned to the girl once more.

"He will join, Yadira," he said," He has never been one to let things go so easily. You will find that out, should he choose to stay."

Even though she was blind, Miss Lambert could see through the lies of the High Table. They'd done this to her and did worse to her father. She could never forgive them for the grief they caused her mother. They were the reason they ended up on the streets. However, if it hadn't been for the High Table, they would have never found their way to the Bowery King and to what was now before them. Her next step was to get ready and hope to get the man to remember who she was. She scattered around, reaching for the IV and her needle kit. She could hear the Bowery King talking to John Wick, whose voice was dying and fading in and out. After a minute, she heard the laughter of the king. Her back had chills crawling up it. Gael entered and saw that the room was ready.

"Would you like me to bring him in?" Gael asked.

"I would appreciate that," she smiled," Thank you."

Gael went off to grab the man. Yadira stood beside her tray, organizing the needles and thread. She had been preparing to meet John Wick after all these years. She'd been preparing to save his life after all these years. She never, of course, wished any danger to him and hoped it would never have to come to this. But fate wheeled in her favor as Gael and the Bowery King came in, John limping and leaning against Gael. Despite his strength and height, the younger man struggled to carry the assassin, being that he was weak and much bigger than he was.

"Lie him down over here, Gael," Yadira said softly, patting the table closest to herself.

John looked up and in the blind eyes of the girl. When he noticed the cloudy blue eyes, he paused. He glanced to the king, wondering if had been a joke. But the older man let out a small laugh.

"I promise you, John," he said as he laid a hand on his shoulder," Yadira won't hurt you. In fact, I think you'll find her very helpful. She was in this group longer than you and I."

"Alright," John gave a nod of his head.

Yadira smiled and skimmed her hands over the needles. The king and Gael left as John laid on the operating table. He sucked in a deep breath as he felt his wounds all over his body. Bruises and cuts and much more covered his skin. He'd been through a lot, but being betrayed? It only made the wounds burn more. The girl could tell he was in pain, but kept quiet until all was ready. She turned to John with a soft smile on her face.

"I'll just need you to remove your shirt, Mr Wick," she said softly," I just need to feel your wounds to get a sense of what I'm doing. I hope you understand."

"Of course," he nodded, trying to sit up as he shakily unbuttoned his top, then, as he sat there, he decided that he could not stand the silence," How long have you been working down here?"

"Since my mother came here," she said as she put two rubber gloves on," We were homeless when I was in my teen years. The Bowery King took us in at some point. My mother worked in the nursing station. She taught me everything I know. Now, Mr Wick, I need you to hold still, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Yadira grabbed her medical tweezers and glanced to John. Her hands felt around for the wound, then touched the metal once more. John watched as the young woman slowly pulled out the bullet, the assassin gritting his teeth and clenching his fist. He should've been used to this by now, but being that it came from Winston… he didn't speak for a moment, watching as she pulled out another and temporarily wrapped them.

"Just to stop the bleeding," she said faintly, gently pressing on the bleeding wound," There are quite a few stitches to sew, but I will be happy to do so, Mr Wick."

"Thank you," he said.

He didn't recognize her yet. Yadira understood, as her father's murder had been years ago. She carefully traced over the wounds, starting right away. John was growing tired, but he knew he had to stay awake. He felt as though trust was flipping around these days. He couldn't even close his eyes in front of a blind woman.

"So," he sighed, with nothing much more to do," Your name is Yadira?"

"Yes, sir," she nodded as she finished one of the stitches and moving on to another," It's Hebrew. I lived in Israel for the longest time. I do miss my old home, but we are no longer welcomed there. "

"I'm sorry to hear that," John paused and glanced at some of his freshly covered wounds.

Yadira bit her lower lip after she thanked him. This was not the time to speak her mind or introduce herself formally. John was in pain and he didn't want to speak. She sensed the feeling, but, of course, she couldn't truly tell. After she finished sewing his wounds and cleaning them up, Yadira advised him to lie down. He thanked her once more, staring at the ceiling. Miss Lambert went to leave the room, but stopped in the doorway. Her hand graced the metal silently, but she had to speak her mind. She turned back around, John opening his eyes to look over to her. Curious, he tried to sit up, but she begged him not to.

"Mr Wick," she said," I know you do not recognize my face. It has been years. I remember your face, I remember your voice. My dad knew you. I didn't know why until my mom explained everything to me."

"Your dad knows me?" he asked.

"Knew you," she said as she looked at his face.

John tried to study her face. He had to remember who she was. But he just couldn't. He asked who her father was. When she mentioned the name, 'Anse Lambert', his face dropped slightly.

…

ISRAEL, 21 YEARS AGO

The home outside of Nazarath was full of life, yet so calm. Bara smiled at the sound of her daughter playing with her dolls, talking of saving the prince from the dragon. The French tunes danced softly in the kitchen, swirling in her mind. She loved her husband's music and could listen to it all day. Suddenly, she heard the front door open.

"Abba!" her daughter squealed, hugging her father.

"Bonjour ma petite fille!" Anse smiled, ("Hello my little girl!")

"How was work, yekiri?" she asked as they kissed.

"Good, good," he set his daughter down," Yadira, you go and play, okay?"

"Yes, Abba," she nodded, running back to her dolls.

Once Yadira left the room, Anse stopped smiling and held onto Bara. He was obviously tired, and she wondered if there was anything she could do. Of course, she knew the answer. When he let go, Mr. Lambert walked over to the table and sat down, trying his best to stay awake.

"This is the type of life not to wish on people," he sighed," I wish I could just retire. I had to jump through hoops just to stay safe. Bara, if something were to happen to me-"

"Do not say that, cher," she whispered, taking his hand," we are going to be okay. I trust that your hard work will pay off and we will be happy. It just takes time, dear."

"You always know what to say," he said.

When night came, they were all settled in and sleeping soundly. From her slumber, Yadira heard the sound of something loud. Screams and feet could be heard all around. In a panic, the little girl ran to her closet, hoping for some kind of safety. It sounded like a monster outside of her door. She waited nervously for the sound to go away. When it did, she emerged from the closet slowly.

"Mama?" she asked softly, walking to the door.

No answer.

"Mama, is it you?" she asked, her hand on the doorknob.

No answer.

"Abba?"

When she opened the door, Yadira was met with fire. She fell back, her eyesight blurry as she reached around. The girl was nervous, shaking and trying to figure out what was going on. She couldn't see where she was going, and she began to cry. Until a hand took her own.

"Shh," John told her," Don't cry, okay?"

"Where is Abba?" she asked," Where is Mama?"

"It's okay."

He noticed that she was having a hard time seeing. He hoped it was temporary as he carried her out of the home. It was the least he could do, after he walked past the dead body of Anse.

….

"I couldn't save your father," John looked up at Yadira, though she couldn't see," I'm so sorry."

"Do not be," she insisted," I hoped to save your life one day. You saved mine and, even though I lost my sight, I could say I was saved by the Baba Yaga."


End file.
